Then they all three looked at the veil. Heaven help him! he little dreamed how and when he should see it again. If they could have had the faintest foreknowledge of that, the tragedy might have been averted. Then Earle went away, and the bridal robes were taken to Lady Linleigh's boudoir. "They will not be seen there," said the countess. "I will lock the door and keep the key; to-morrow it will not matter." And Mattie helped her--poor, helpless child!--place them over a chair so that the shining robes might not be injured. It was Earle who proposed a ramble to the woods; dinner was to be later than usual. "Let us all three go," he said. "Mattie with us, Doris; it may be years before we meet all together so happy again." So it was settled, and they spent the remainder of that sunny, happy day together. They were sitting in a green, sunny dell, with the fall grass and wild flowers springing luxuriantly around them, the tall trees spreading overhead, the little birds filling the wood with song. Lady Doris had never been so happy; she had almost forgotten the dark background of sorrow and care. Mattie was happy, for it was impossible to see them so young, so loving, with their graceful caresses and love, without rejoicing with them. "This is like Brackenside," said Earle. "How often we have sat together in the woods there! And Mrs. Brace used to wonder how the farms would advance if they were left to us." "And well she might wonder," said Mattie; "even when I believed Doris to be my own sister, I thought her the most beautiful, but the most useless of human beings!" "Thank you," laughed Lady Studleigh. "It is altogether like a fairy tale," said Earle; "if I had read such a story, I should say it was untrue; I should call such a story exaggerated; yet, here we are, the living, breathing actors in the drama." "It is not such a very wonderful history, Earle," said Lady Studleigh; "there are many private marriages, many children brought up in ignorance of their real name and station; many a man like you--a gentleman and genius by birth--rises by the simple force of his own merit to be one of the magnates of the land." Then she sighed to herself, and her brightness was for one moment overcast as she remembered that hers was the only part of the story that was improbable or extraordinary; no one would believe that she had been guilty as she had been. How often, in after years, they went back to that bright, long day. Earle never saw a wild flower, or a green fern, that he did not turn from it with a sick, aching heart. They dined together; the earl would not have any visitors; it was the last day but one of their darling, and they would have it all to themselves. There they sat in the gloaming, and Doris sang to them. Who knew the pain, the aching in one lonely heart? who knew the quiet heroism of the girl with the brown, kindly face and shining hair?